


On my own two feet

by Builder



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote the second chapter first, Sickfic, Vomiting, but not really, casefic, kind of, that's probably really apparent, the second chapter is way better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14063397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Spencer suffers a migraine on a case.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from tumblr. find me @builder051

It’s too bright outside when Spencer steps off the jet.  It had been cloudy back on the east coast.  Apparently Dallas didn’t get the memo.  The sunlight makes everything look washed out.  Spencer squints and tries to keep his eyes from watering. 

 

He keeps his gaze downcast as he descends the ramp, but even the white laces on his Converse are trying to blind him.  Spencer wishes he’d thought to bring his sunglasses.  But he hadn’t needed them when they’d left the BAU office.  And he hadn’t been thinking. 

 

Spencer shakes his head in an attempt to focus his thoughts on the case.  But all it does is make him feel like he just stepped off a tilt-a-whirl.  He hefts his bag on his shoulder and steps quickly toward the waiting car. 

 

“Reid, you come with me and Morgan to the station,” Emily says, gesturing to one glossy black SUV.  “JJ and Rossi, if you want to check us in at the hotel and head to the crime scene?”

 

“Sure,” JJ says.  She reaches out to take Spencer’s bag.  “Here, I’ll take that for you.”

 

“Yeah, just a second.”  Spencer unzips his canvas duffel and roots around.  He knows he has Excedrin in there somewhere, and he’s going to be needing it soon.

 

He closes his fist around the small dark green bottle and shoves it into his pocket as quickly as he can, but not before JJ sees it.

 

“You ok, Spence?” She asks as she slings the bag over her own shoulder.

 

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” Spencer says.  He uses his sleeve to wipe at his watering eyes.  He know JJ’s still staring at him, but he couldn’t look up at her if he tried.  “Just a headache.”

 

Emily’s boots clack against the tarmac as she appears at Spencer’s other side.  “The local police chief wants to meet with us ASAP,” she says.  “Another body was just found, and it looks like the same signature.”

 

“Yeah, alright.”  Spencer squints at Emily, but he has to lower his eyes again immediately as the pain behind his forehead flares.  He doesn’t think he winces, but his face must betray his discomfort.  Emily gives him a questioning look.

 

“I’m good.  Let’s go,” Spencer says, pressing his palm over the painkillers in his pocket.  He’s pretty sure he hears JJ whisper the word  _migraine_ before she turns to put the bags in the trunk of a second unmarked vehicle. 

 

***

 

As soon as they arrive at the police station, Spencer downs a double dose of Excedrin and chases the pills with a long draught from the water fountain.  His head spins when he straightens up, and he reaches for the wall to regain his balance.  He takes a stabilizing breath and scurries down the hall to the briefing room where Emily and Derek and the local police chief are waiting. 

 

“Sorry,” he mutters, taking a seat.  A display of crime scene photos are projected on the wall.  Spencer should already be picking them apart, searching out similar details, and cataloguing them for reference later.  But he can barely hold his eyes open to take them in.  Everything from the projection screen’s white background to the dull whir of the police chief’s computer makes his head feel like it’s going to explode.

 

Spencer lets the others do all the talking.  He listens as best he can, hoping his subconscious is capturing the information so he can process it later. 

 

“What do you think, Reid?” Emily prompts him. 

 

“Oh,” Spencer scrambles.  They’ve been looking at the slides for several minutes now.  Of course he’s expected to give an opinion.  “Um.  Yeah.  I agree.” 

 

The breath Emily lets out tells him that’s not the answer she was looking for.  “Ok,” she says.  “We’ll need to look at some maps to really compare the locations of the dump sites.”

 

“I’ll get on that,” Derek volunteers.

 

“Good, ok.”  Emily gets to her feet.  “Reid, can I talk to you?”

 

Spencer’s heart sinks.  It descends down past his stomach, which is rising into his chest.  He pushes in his chair follows Emily out into the hall.  The natural light coming in through the glass doors at the end of the corridor is still blindingly bright, but it’s softer than the fluorescents in the office.

 

“Alright, be honest with me,” Emily says.

 

“I’m really sorry.  I know I’m having a hard time focusing,” Spencer admits.  He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a slow breath.  He’s starting to feel sick.

 

“It’s obvious your head’s bothering you.  If you need to take a breather—”

 

“No, the case is more important,” Spencer insists.  “I’ll get it together.”

 

“I don’t want you to work when you’re not feeling well,” Emily says simply.  “I’ll take you to the hotel, you can sleep for a couple hours, then come back when you feel like you’re on your game.”

 

“I can push through.”

 

“Reid, it’s risky for you to be working like this.”  Emily’s forehead wrinkles in concern.  “It’s hard on your body.  You’re more apt to make mistakes…”  She shakes her head.  Spencer wishes she wouldn’t; watching her move is only exacerbating his nausea.

 

He swallows hard.  “Mm.”  He would protest again, but pain shoots through his sinuses as warmth starts to seep up his throat.  “Yeah.  I…  Can you excuse me for a second?” 

 

Spencer turns on his heel before Emily has a chance to respond.  His entire body is shaking as he pushes open the door to the men’s room and beelines for the only stall.  He can already taste bile, and it’s all he can do to get on his knees before he vomits. 

 

Spencer rides out the heaves and sputters into the toilet.  His throat smarts, and the pressure behind his eye sockets borders on excruciating.  He takes a few quavering breaths, then paws at the toilet paper roll to wipe his mouth.  As soon as he does, though, his stomach cramps and he throws up again. 

 

Spencer swears under his breath and spits out strings of bile.  He doesn’t feel any better, but at least his stomach is empty.  Not that it’s much comfort, though, because he feels like he could still purge up acid and saliva.  He hopes his body will pass on that.

 

He scrapes his feet across the tile and pulls himself up, then trudges to the sink to wash his hands.  Spencer’s face is ashen and sweaty.  He swills out his mouth, but the slightly metallic taste of the tap water almost makes him retch all over again.  He dries is trembling hands, then heads back into the hallway to find Emily and apologize again.  But when he opens the door, she’s nowhere to be found. 

 

Spencer sighs.  She probably got pulled aside for an urgent task, maybe a trip to the crime scene or the morgue.  Something infinitely more important than his headache. 

 

It doesn’t matter.  He can take care of himself.  He’ll just have to find somewhere quiet to wait it out.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek’s bent over the table squinting at a map when the door opens and closes behind him.  He doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who it is, but he does anyway.  Spencer shuffles toward the worn sofa in the corner of the office and gingerly lowers himself to a seated position. 

 

“Hey.  I thought Emily was going to drive you back to the hotel,” Derek says. 

 

Spencer shrugs.  “I couldn’t find her.  She probably got…pulled to go look at the scene or something.”  He has to pause and take a stabilizing breath.  His hair sticks to his forehead, and there’s a splash of vomit on the collar of his shirt.

 

“I’ll take you, then,” Derek offers.  “Somebody from the local force was supposed to come in and look at this with me, but I guess they got busy too.”  He stands up and reaches in his pocket for his keys.

 

“No, don’t,” Spencer protests.  “Don’t leave the case.  And I’m not sure I’d do so well in the car anyway.”

 

“Getting sick didn’t help you feel any better?”  Derek flops back into his swivel chair and toes it across the floor toward the couch.

 

Spencer starts to shake his head, but seems to think better of it.  He bends over with his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands.  “It’s the body’s natural response when information from the eyes and the balances nerves in the ears don’t line up,” he explains quietly.  “It doesn’t make any sense in the brain, so it decides to purge the stomach of a possible toxin…”  He swallows.  “I wish my brain would realize it’s the main problem right now.”

 

“Yeah…”  Derek pats Spencer’s shoulder.  He wishes he could do more.  “I’ve got some Excedrin, but I don’t know if it’ll help if you’re not keeping stuff down so easily.”

 

“Mm.”  Spencer takes a deep breath.  “I’ll look at the map with you.”  His shoulders rise and fall, but he stays hunched.

 

“No, you’re gonna lie down in here and rest until you feel well enough to go back to the hotel,” Derek says with finality.  He pushes his chair back toward the table. 

 

“No—”  Spencer winces at the volume of his own voice.

 

“I can take this project somewhere else.”  Derek stands and starts folding up the map.

 

“No,” Spencer tries again, more quietly.

 

“Kid…”  Derek shakes his head.  “You have to take care of yourself.”

 

“No, I mean…”  Spencer lifts his head an inch.  “Stay?”

 

Derek sighs.  He makes sure his phone is set to vibrate.  He lays the map out flat again and takes his seat.


End file.
